


the lies we tell ourselves

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Ocean's Eleven Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Coming Out, Community: tic_tac_woe, Depression, Dystopia, Friendship, Guilt, Heavy Angst, M/M, POV Multiple, Pining, Realization, Reckless Behavior, Regret, Rejection, Romance, Self-Worth Issues, Trope Bingo Round 14, Unrequited Love, Virtual Reality, or at least starting to get that way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24095422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: Love is messy and unkind and unforgiving but to Linus, it’s theonlyworthwhile score.
Relationships: Linus Caldwell/Rusty Ryan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15
Collections: Tic Tac Woe (The Apocabingo Community), Trope Bingo: Round Fourteen





	the lies we tell ourselves

**Author's Note:**

> Written for tic_tac_woe for the prompt [Virtual Reality](https://immolate-the-silence.dreamwidth.org/62597.html). 
> 
> Also a fill on my Trope Bingo card for the trope [Coming Out (of the closet)](https://immolate-the-silence.dreamwidth.org/47728.html), specifically with these sub-tropes in mind: Late Coming Out, LGBT Awakening, and especially the latter’s sub-trope Closet Key. Tropes are fun :) 
> 
> _Soundtrack:_ The title is from Mountaineer’s song Good Night; however, I was listening to Guano Apes’ Kiss the Dawn endlessly while writing this.

Linus knew better than to place much stock in some stupid video game. Sure, it was a multi-million dollar enterprise, most of it kept perpetually in beta, but it was promising and all the rage and more enticing on the street than any drug or score. Not that Linus was on the street too much these days, only that his friends would talk about it at every opportunity, its every feature and advantage and permutation from mildly to wildly fantastic. Virtually any place or idea you could dream up and it was yours.

Not that Linus wanted to walk on the moon, sail the world’s oceans as a pirate or naval officer, trudge through exotic rain forests populated with fantastical creatures, join the crusades, become a world famous rock star, command a dictatorship or the _thousands_ of other possibilities open to him.

No, he was a man of simple, too mundane, maybe even _too_ predictable tastes.

He’d read every rule warning him not to take it too seriously, this alternate life. It wasn’t the real thing, obviously anything that happened in that carefully constructed space couldn’t transfer over to his actual life. It was frustrating though, wanting to become this other person, this persona you could slide into so frighteningly easy with no hitches or glitches or second guessing, but never quite being able to achieve it in real life. The distance was too far, the ceiling too high for him to reach even if he found a few inches to get him higher.

Linus knew better than to try something that could become so addictive, have serious adverse effects, something which could seep so easily into all his actual faults and insecurities.

He knew it but by god he just _had_ to try.

Really though, Linus would have gladly left it all behind if he could just take _one_ specific thing away.

_Rusty._

Rusty, who dropped by to have a few drinks and nearly always ended up staying the night, who invited him on every job but not necessarily on every stage of said job, who smiled at Linus a certain way when he was teasing him and when Linus said something that probably came across as impulsive and immature and just plain _dumb_ really, and how that certain smile got a little wider and a little brighter when he might have been proud of him for something. Linus wondered how much of it was actually Rusty and how much of it was him; how much of anything that happened was a result of the degree to which his consciousness wanted it, with which his words _and_ money took effect. Yes, he had asked for Rusty, wanted his friendship, his approval, maybe more than that, _definitely_ more than that but it didn’t mean he was going to take it _that_ far.

If he wanted to be realistic, he _couldn’t_ take it that far.

The guidelines weren’t clear exactly on how much of your own life you should bring into the game. Even for the most advanced players, things could get pretty confusing pretty fast. Say you wanted to go back and correct a real life mistake, have an extra few months with someone you lost, if you lost focus for even a _second_ then the lines would start to blur. You’d slip up, confuse reality for paid fantasy, be subject to worlds populated with people and objects and emotions based on monetary rather than intrinsic value. You’d say something that could compromise everything, keep doing things and acting on impulses that netted no result and drive yourself insane in the process.

Yes, Linus had heard the horror stories and no, he was determined not to become another one.

He was smarter than that.

It was faulty reasoning after they had kissed and fallen into bed together, Rusty just as much at fault and with just as much intention as he. Before too long, Linus was in so deep that when he disconnected he could still taste Rusty on his lips, soaking into every half-starved part of him; Rusty exploding on his tongue like a thousand different taste buds, reeking of everything he had eaten in the last twelve hours which, for Rusty, was more than the average person.

It was all so easy, _too_ easy when in real life he had to contend with making next month’s rent and hunting down a decent and steady job, all the while trying to find ways he could stay relevant to Rusty, have a phone conversation that wasn’t all dead air or just how much his life was sucking. It was painful how boring he sounded, painful how Rusty’s attention span must have been enormous to _still_ keep hanging on. Maybe he felt bad, maybe he valued Linus’ friendship enough for that occasional phone call.

If Linus could give Rusty everything he wanted to, then maybe he wouldn’t get bored. If Rusty wanted Linus even a fraction as much as Linus wanted him, maybe it would be enough for the both of them.

Linus could make it work, could cut himself out of the game _completely_ even if Rusty didn’t stay every night, even if he wanted an open relationship, even if he never said those three little words.

He could make it work.

_Eventually, in a matter of time, all the options you have will no longer seem sound. Eventually it becomes do or die._

Besides, whatever he could get in real life was _infinitely_ better _and_ healthier than what had been constructed for him based on his own selfish desires.

It took time, took yards of give and pull before he could convince Rusty to invite him over. It would have been a painful process if he wasn’t spending all that time on the _one_ worthwhile thing in his life. God, but he was a fool enough that he’d gladly give anything to Rusty that he demanded of him, make any compromise, risk drowning from never getting enough, scale every mountain even if no reward came of it.

 _People do the stupidest,_ stupidest _things for love._

And Linus knew it shouldn’t take this much effort to get someone to cave, someone you wanted to share a life with, someone you wanted to crawl into bed with _and_ still have there the next morning, occasionally if not always.

But here he was: flat on his back, subject to any of Rusty Ryan’s whims.

 _Absolutely_ screwed.

Rusty was giving this particular night though, refilling Linus’ glass after every polite sip. He seemed even more nervous, distracted and - since Linus always looked at the worst case scenario - trying to speed the night along because maybe Linus pushed a little too hard and maybe he really, _really_ didn’t want him here. He barely waited for Linus to answer a question before he jumped onto another topic, skirting over Linus’ every attempt to delve, not even delve but just dip his toes into Rusty’s personal life.

Linus wondered just how far he was willing to go, how much he was willing to torture himself just so he could get the nerve up.

Then, realizing he’d gone far enough, he covered the small stretch of space between them and planted his lips on Rusty’s, kissed hard, _desperately_ before he softened, enjoying instead of rushing through the moment, allowing the fire to dim, to cool, to settle in his belly like a ball of lead, poisoning him, already warning him barely two seconds before Rusty’s hands were on his shoulders, gripping them, harder and harder and the inches between them increasing…

“What are you doing!”

Linus was pushed back so forcefully he crashed into the TV cabinet. He would have fallen flat on his ass if he hadn’t reached for something to break his fall: the sharp corner of that cabinet. He bit back the grimace of pain, the whimper as he clutched his hand close to his chest. It didn’t matter how much effort he put into swallowing his pride, the _rejection,_ steeling himself.

Rusty was already gone.

* * *

He walked back to his apartment alone, dejected, the trails of sweat running down the back of his neck a sharp contrast to the ice encasing his stomach, its tendrils crawling up his throat until he was on the verge of choking. He didn’t know where Rusty had gone but that was somehow worse than if he had been kicked out, if Rusty had glared at him and told him to get the hell out of his apartment.

The way Rusty had just _fled_ like that made Linus feel as if he didn’t even deserve his anger.

As if he was _nothing._

For the second night, Linus wasn’t sleeping. The previous night had been exhilarating as he had endlessly run through every reaction: obvious relief, mild surprise, pleased shock, restrained joy. Funny, usually Linus considered every angle but he had _never_ pictured Rusty disgusted.

Maybe because he _mistakenly_ believed their friendship was worth too much to Rusty for that.

_And oh, how the wrong have so far to fall…_

_If I just plug in, I can see him again and this time he_ won’t _push me away. He’ll pull me into his arms and tell me how much I mean to him._

 _No,_ his practical side reasoned. _You’re already past your max for the week. They’ll cut you off, you’ll get sick or something,_ something _will happen. There’s reasons for the limit. This thing isn’t even one-hundred percent foolproof yet. You’re betting on something that just might get you killed._

His heart throbbed pitifully. A hand reached down inside him, grasping his lungs and squeezing, trying to force all the air out. Every time he moved he _ached_ from the effort and the strain and the lack of purpose or even understanding. He couldn’t stop crying, his eyes red and raw and seared with pain like he’d been trying to tear them out. The darkness closed in on him, the loneliness it represented suffocated him, laughing at his childishness, taunting him with all the things he already knew, things he _needed_ to stop thinking about.

He sat up, flicked the lights on and stumbled out into the living room. His hands reached for the headphones and cable even before he realized what he was doing; then again, he had already made the decision.

It didn’t take much effort at all to slip away.

* * *

Whatever Rusty was drinking wasn’t strong enough.

No matter what he tried thinking about, the multitude of responsibilities he had on his plate right now each demanding his attention, his conscience always came back to Linus.

He had had a bad feeling about tonight, hadn’t been able to put a finger on it. It wasn’t like he was running out of excuses, wasn’t like he couldn’t handle the kid when he kept insisting on something, some way to stay relevant. It astonished him how hard Linus could push when he wanted something. It astonished him how cruel these thoughts were: Linus always wanting something, Linus so small he had to work three times as hard just to matter. He didn’t really believe any of that. It was just his self-defense mechanism: a way to protect himself from digging too deep a hole.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t take to the kid because he already had, making him curse Danny all the more sometimes because he had good instincts when it came to people and he had _insisted_ on Linus. It wasn’t that he disliked his company either. Life had just become… complicated.

It was terrible really on how the more he sat there, the more he really, _genuinely_ hated himself.

Especially as he tried to tell himself that Linus needed to be taught a lesson, another self-defense tactic that wasn’t working.

And yes, okay, Rusty had always suspected that Linus might not be into girls. Really though, it had been easy to blame that lack of interest on inexperience and age. With Linus trying to prove himself, to make himself into Danny or Rusty if that’s what he really wanted, then it stood to reason that he wouldn’t have much time for a girlfriend, boyfriend, whatever. Not that any of this was worth a damn; Rusty couldn’t honestly care what sex Linus was or wasn’t having and with whom he was having it. Life was too short to get hung up on any of that crap.

Rusty, no matter his convictions or self-assurance, _should have_ seen it coming. He knew full-well Linus hero-worshiped he and Danny. It was cute and endearing and sorta flattering until it had started to take up too much of their time and they’d had to up their game. But then Linus had stepped up, _really_ stepped up and Danny was finally at the point where he could sorta rub it in Rusty’s face, and they had both finally - yes, _finally_ because they both knew it was going to happen sooner or later - gotten to the point where they could be proud.

What was he really getting at here?

Did he care about Linus? Hell yeah, more than he wanted to.

But did he _love_ Linus?

Having nursed the last third of his glass for well on fifteen minutes now, the bartender asked him if he wanted another drink. Rusty asked a question instead, the most juvenile, quintessential question of them all. He’d asked it of himself before he moved in with Isabel, before he took that girl whose name he couldn’t recall to prom, only that last time he’d accepted that he hadn’t known a thing about love. He’d even asked it from Danny’s point of view when he went after Tess and dragged Rusty and the other nine unashamedly along with him.

“How the hell do you know if you’re in love with someone?”

“Is it easier _not_ to love them? Because if it’s easy, it ain’t love. It’s responsibility or lust or somethin’ else.”

 _Goddammit_ , Rusty thought, Linus’ hand warm and sweaty on his shoulder; Linus’ minty breath ghosting over his cheek; Linus’ mouth sealed to his, so needy and so soft and so _Linus._ He could close his eyes and still know it was Linus.

Linus wanting to be in his life, asking him about his day, about a job, asking for pointers, asking for any little bit of time Rusty could give him and Rusty hanging back just far enough for the kid to barely reach him, pretending, no, _insisting_ he had no time to spare.

Closing Linus off because it was too hard, too complicated, too much of what he needed but couldn’t let himself take and keep and _ruin…_

He slapped two twenties onto the counter once he realized another drink or three wouldn’t change anything. Outside it was spitting rain, the night so dark and disorienting that Rusty had to take a few minutes to adjust to where he actually was. He knew where Linus lived like it was carved out on the palm of his hand, knew just how to jingle the lock for it to pop open, knew Linus would already be there sulking and crying and maybe a small part of him believing Rusty just might chase after him like in some cheesy romance flick.

That same small part of him would be so happy when it actually happened.

And suddenly that’s _all_ Rusty wanted: to make Linus happy. For the first time too, he could truly be genuine about it.

God, but just to see that kid light up like at Christmas…

He raced across the five blocks, barely stopping to breathe, and raced up the three flights of stairs without even really realizing what he was doing. He knocked on the door, impatient enough to break in before thirty seconds could elapse. It was only when the lock popped and the door pushed inward just a bit, not more than him catching a glimpse of the lamp on the side table in the hallway and a thin stretch of carpet, that Rusty knew something was wrong. He couldn’t explain it more than feeling cold, a wave of water rushing over him and freezing into ice, prickling along his skin. He almost didn’t want to go inside.

The living room was a _wreck_ : wires crisscrossing everywhere until there was barely any space left to stand, let alone walk; styrofoam and cardboard boxes strewn with crumbs and half-eaten bits of crusts; piles of books and magazines. The TV was screaming static, a blinking red light flashing a warning from the small box resting on the TV stand, one he recognized from late night commercials.

And Linus was lying unmoving on his back in the center of the room.

“Oh god…”

Rusty moved toward the kid from instinct alone, tripping over a tangle of wires and nearly twisting his ankle in the process. He grabbed the bundle of cords and tugged, not caring what he broke, relieved to hear the TV quiet its screeching. He slipped the headphones off Linus’ head and tossed them out of the room, contenting himself on hearing them smack into a wall. Rusty tapped a terrifyingly pale cheek insistently, ran shaking fingers along a clammy forehead, begged a body - so familiar and so _dear_ \- that wasn’t moving to shift, to twitch, to do _anything._

“Linus, come on, kid. Wake _up._ ”

But Linus didn’t wake up, his eyelashes didn’t flutter and his fingers didn’t twitch and his chest didn’t rise and fall either, and that cold spot that Rusty had felt just outside the door suddenly had become a ball of ice in the center of his chest, filling him up inside until it was pushing up into his throat, pressing tight to the backs of his eyes, until the tears were almost streaming, until he couldn’t stop words from pouring out of his mouth when Rusty never pleaded or asked or said he was sorry for anything.

Rusty took his eyes off the kid for no more than a moment, grabbing a remote and maneuvering to the help center, pounding the numbers with fumbling fingers that no longer felt connected to his body. There was an anger in him that just barely won out over despair, but there was nothing about any of it that he could control. He cursed the number of rings before an automated voice answered. “Having technical difficulties?”

He turned the volume up as high as it would go. “My friend… _please_ , my friend isn’t waking up!” Linus’ pulse was dangerously weak, a pathetic little palpitation against the pads of his fingers. Rusty could feel himself shaking in fury and disbelief and guilt, more guilt than any one person should have been able to make him feel.

But this was Linus and he had _betrayed_ him, turned tail and ran just because it was easier.

He had known about this underdeveloped, overpriced software; although, it was easier to label it as that than admitting to the chaos it had already started to wreak on society. Crime was low, sure, but suicides and accidental deaths more than made up for it.

What made it even worse was he had heard the rumors that Linus had been dabbling in it. He should have known he would run to it, people had turned to drugs for far less than what Rusty had put Linus through tonight for no reasons other than his own blinding fear and ignorant denial and unwavering _selfishness_.

“Please standby, sir.”

Rusty, understandably, snapped. “Goddammit! He’s barely breathing, please fucking _send_ someone here!”

Apparently, he had gotten the message through because a hologram appeared in front of the screen within two blinks, alarming Rusty enough so that he dropped his hand from Linus’ throat.

“What can you do for him?” He shouted, breaking out in a cold sweat as he stared down at an unnervingly still Linus. It hurt more than anything in Rusty’s life ever had, which was why he rifled through his wallet, thrusting several bills at the woman who was standing there unaffected as if she had seen this all too many times before. “I’ll pay you anything! Just tell me what you need,” he pleaded, about to offer up his own life, about to pummel her with his fists even though it wouldn’t do any good. She was a fucking hologram, after all.

Maybe this was why they didn’t send real people.

She stared at the cash with as much disinterest as she took in the horrible scene that had become Rusty’s life and suddenly, like a shot to the heart, Rusty understood. The cash floated down to the carpet, useless, forgotten.

“The paramedics will arrive shortly. In the meantime, I would suggest taking a breath.”

A breath… when it felt like a bullet had already ripped through his lungs, blood filling up his chest and not leaking out fast enough before it suffocated him.

A breath… when Linus was struggling for air not a foot away, farther from Rusty than he’d ever been.

 _I know people_ , Rusty wanted to threaten. _I know people that will tear your company down, that will hold all of you accountable and no one will ever plug themselves into your slaughterhouse again._ It was an empty threat and he knew it, empty because it was too late. Hell, probably a third of the population were hooked up on some periodic basis, their own lives miserable and meaningless enough, their own failures so easily erased, their own dreams brought to life for such a small time, if only that amount of time couldn’t feel like eternity.

Instead, Rusty reasoned. “There has to be something.”

“He was thoroughly warned of what would happen if he broke our rules.”

It was such a cold and callous statement that it left Rusty sufficiently shell-shocked. The woman flickered in and out for a few moments before blinking out entirely, a mercy Rusty was grateful for. He grasped Linus’ hand, futilely rubbing warmth into the chilled skin, paying no mind to the bruise there after shoving him carelessly into a piece of furniture because it was just too much.

As soon as the paramedics left and against his better judgment, Rusty catapulted himself into Linus’ dreams.

If they were worth Linus dying over, it was worth the risk.

* * *

The pictures displayed like bittersweet beacons of happiness all over the apartment had Rusty choking on his anger. He tried to take it all in at once to make it hurt less: this other life that Linus wanted so badly, photos he had never posed in, clothes strewn about the apartment that he didn’t recognize but knew were his, but the pain ricocheted inside him until there was nowhere it didn’t touch. When he found the scrap of paper carefully placed in the center of the kitchen table, he scooped it up as if it could disintegrate from the intensity of his gaze.

The writing was, unmistakably, Linus’.

_Rusty,_

_I knew you were going to come in after me sometime, so I figured I’d leave you something to remember me by. Here’s the thing, Rusty, I tried to crack it. Really, I did. But after you and Danny and the job, I started to fall behind and I couldn’t catch back up. Don’t get me wrong ‘cause I worked my ass off, every damn job, and I wanted it so bad but sometimes it doesn’t matter how badly you want things._

_I never wanted to plug in until I thought, what the hell? Just a test run. I didn’t have many requests, just a couple, really. I wanted what everyone else wants, the basics: money, power, decisiveness, the confidence to know yourself so completely that you won’t make a mistake._

_I wanted job after job, you and Danny and I and sometimes the guys too. It was like my own personal time loop and my own little slice of paradise. I didn’t intend on getting with you. I didn’t want to blur the lines but eventually it just happened. And like a fool, I let it. That’s when I started slipping up. It didn’t take long before it was either never get out or lay it all on the line with you, the real you. What I’m trying to get at, Rusty, is that eventually the money and the work didn’t mean anything, and that maybe -_

_Maybe if I wasn’t this wildly successful thief, I could still have you._

**FIN**


End file.
